The Infinite Secrets of the Sacred Homiehood
by Twist
Summary: FINISHED When Vetinari, Sybil, Downey and Rust were twelve, they formed a sacred homiehood in symbolism of everlasting friendship, or something. When tension grows between Rust and his son, it's all put to the test. Laugh! Cry! Review!
1. Introduction

The Infinite Secrets of the Sacred Homiehood  
  
Based on the movie: 'The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood' and Terry Pratchett's Discworld Series  
  
By: Twist  
  
A/n: Dammit, I've started another series. And I can't stop myself. *howls* Why?! Why must I write this? Why can't I just sit through a movie like a normal person instead of be forming a plot in my head about Discworld characters' childhoods? Answer me this! *listens to silence* Ah, right. So, as I sit here with my little Ya-Ya headdress, I give you the story of several popular characters' childhoods. Takes place when they're about twelve.  
  
Disclaimer: Twist does not own the Discworld characters, nor does she own the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. Go away.  
  
*** The story begins, as most of mine do, in Ankh-Morpork. In fact, it begins on one of the posher streets of Ankh-Morpork: Scoone Avenue. In the backyard of a large mansion, and to be more precise, outside of a shed door. Four children can be seen emerging, one of them muttering.  
  
"Don't see why I have to be the one to bring the sparklers. They're my bloody sparklers."  
  
"Shut up, Havelock."  
  
The youth know as Havelock made a face, but continued to follow. The four youths were all wearing pajamas but had had the presence of mind (this being Ankh-Morpork) to slip on some sort of shoe. Even though the child know as Havelock's were Agatean sandals.  
  
"Why are we doing this, anyway?"  
  
"To express our bond of everlasting friendship."  
  
"Why, Faustus, did you even say that? I'm going back to my shed."  
  
"No you aren't, you little bastard," the only female of the group growled. She reached behind her and grabbed Havelock's shirt collar. "You're the only one who can properly operate a firework."  
  
And so Havelock turned and trudged along at the back. The odd procession continued through a small patch of trees until the children were in the very center, where a fire circle was. Three of the children sat, while Havelock walked around the edge of the circle and lit sparklers. When he was finished, he sat next to the child known as Faustus.  
  
"And now," the only other boy said, "I call the first meeting of this secret . . ." He paused. They couldn't be a brotherhood, because of Sybil and they most definitely could not be a sisterhood. He decided to make something up. "The first meeting of our secret homiehood." Havelock snorted. Sybil nudged him in the ribs. "It is I, Ronald Rust," Ronald continued, trying to ignore Havelock's erratic snorting, "that will be the leader of our sacred tribe."  
  
"Ohm . . ." someone said from the other side of the circle. Sybil and Faustus burst into hysterical fits of giggles.  
  
"Havelock, behave yourself," Ronald chided, glaring. Havelock folded his hands and stared at a pebble. The fact that he was trying not to laugh was ignored by Ronald. "First, we must drink the blood of our forebears," Ronald said, and removed a small jar from his pocket, "out of this magical chalice."  
  
"Sparkly . . ."  
  
"Shut up, Faustus."  
  
Ronald ignored the interruption and poured the contents of the jar into one of his mother's wine glasses. He then passed it with great ceremony to his right. Sybil took the chalice hesitantly.  
  
"Is this really blood?"  
  
"No, it's only milk with red dye in it."  
  
"I'm lactose-intolerant."  
  
"No you aren't, Havelock. Shut up." Sybil glared at the boy across from her and looked apprehensively into the cup. "Are you sure?"  
  
Ronald sighed in exasperation. "Yes, I made it. Now drink and let's get on with it."  
  
"Alright then." Sybil closed her eyes and took a small sip. She smacked her tongue against the top of her mouth, and opened her eyes, surprised. "Wow, you were right; it is milk." She caught the look on Ronald's face and passed the cup to Faustus.  
  
"Ew, I'm not drinking anything Sybil drank out of," Faustus said, looking at the chalice disgustedly. "She's got cooties."  
  
"I do not!"  
  
Havelock leaned over and whispered something into Faustus's ear. His expression changed from disgusted to frightened. He quickly took a drink and passed the cup to Havelock, who downed quite a bit more than everybody else.  
  
"What did he say to you?" Sybil demanded of Faustus. Faustus merely shook his head.  
  
"When you are older and wiser, you shall know." Sybil glared.  
  
"Ahem," Ronald said, looking pointedly at all of them. "I believe it is now time that I, the heir to the continued Homiehood, crown you all." Ronald pulled four ridiculous looking headdresses from behind himself. "First, Sybil.  
  
"Sybil Ramkin, I crown you: Duchess Dancing Sheep." Havelock giggled, causing Ronald to glare at him. When Havelock had managed to control himself, Ronald picked another headdress.  
  
"Faustus Downey, I crown you: Doctor Shimmying Dog." Havelock spun around, looking from left to right.  
  
"Where's the dog?"  
  
"There isn't one."  
  
"Oh," Havelock turned around, obviously relieved, "good."  
  
Rust picked another headdress out. "Havelock Vetinari, I crown you: Lord Drop Your Trousers." Havelock scowled. Ronald procured the last of the silly headdresses. "And I myself am King Springing Bubble." Havelock almost burnt himself, laughing so hard. Sybil and Faustus found self-control difficult as well. When they had all finally re-arrived at the seriousness of the matter, Ronald continued.  
  
"And now we, the four individuals present, shall share our blood, so that we are forever bonded." He pulled out and knife. "It's been sterilized, don't worry."  
  
"Yeah, well, I'm using my own," Havelock said, pulling out his own knife.  
  
"Me too," Faustus agreed.  
  
"I want to use Havelock's," Sybil said.  
  
"No, you complete fools," Ronald said, right before Havelock, being the least squeamish of the bunch, pricked his palms. "The idea is that we share a knife. And it's a brand new knife; I haven't even used it for classes yet." The other three members of the group grudgingly agreed. Ronald pricked both of his palms, with great ceremony, and passed the knife to Sybil. The process was repeated by all three, and then they joined hands. "This is so nasty," Sybil said. "I'm sharing my blood directly with Faustus Downey."  
  
"The feeling is mutual," Faustus said, making a face.  
  
"Shut up, you two," Ronald snapped. "For now we are bonded as Homies for the rest of our lives. We are now The Sacred Homiehood." Havelock burst into hysterical fits of laughter again, but then again, so did everyone else, once they realized that this was probably the silliest thing they'd ever done in their lives. Of course, they had no idea.  
  
***  
  
A/nII: The intro, as it were. So, do you like it? Tell me so. And thanks very much to everyone who helped me with this. You people are marvelous. Of course, I love all of you. Please tell me what you think! 


	2. Disagreements and Meetings

Chapter Two  
  
Twist  
  
A/n: Guess what. I realized this last night. This fic has a plot. Oh. My. God. *snaps out of it* Which means that this will be considerably faster than my other fic, which may never be finished. I may mention that this story jumps around between their youth and shortly after 'The Truth.'  
  
CONCERNING FANS OF DRUMKNOTT: My deepest apologies, but I have a deep loathing of that particular character, and this will be made clear. If you have no sense of humor and therefore dislike the fact he may occasionally get a prank pulled on him, I have warned you. The same goes for fans of Wuffles.  
  
Disclaimer: Twist does not know nor had ever met Terry Pratchett. She just really, really likes his books. He does not have her permission to come after her. After all, he is being very nice letting her use his characters. It would confuse her to go from nice to mean so quickly. And she would never, ever claim he 'took her idea.' What ludicrous.  
  
She does not own 'The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood,' either. Am I done yet?  
  
~  
  
Fredrick Rust stormed out of his back door and into the private yard of the Rust property. His father, sometimes! Why shouldn't he be able to shoot servants for not putting his shoes the right way 'round? And why did the man have to keep dredging that up?  
  
It wasn't even as if he hadn't been punished. They'd made him talk to the Patrician, and he was insane. As far as Fredrick had been able to see, it hadn't been murder; it was punishment. But Vetinari had called it murder the whole time. When he'd pointed this out to the man and that he himself might be considered a murderer the man had given his father sad look and told Rust Jr. to leave. Then he'd shouted and Lord Rust.  
  
That, at least, was a consolation. As he crossed the line into the next yard, he gave the house occupying some of it a strange look. It had been abandoned since Frederick's birth but it was protected by the Assassin's Guild and the Patrician himself. Fred wondered vaguely why the old bastard would show any interest at all in such a trashy property. The shed behind was protected, too. Odd, that.  
  
He wandered into the small woods separating the back yard from the hill that led down to common Ankh-Morporkian streets. There was a fire circle there, with a few rocks around it, presumably seats. He looked at them, puzzled, and wondered why he had been forbidden by his father to ever sit on any of them. They were just rocks. But there were initials carved into them, so presumably they belonged to someone. Not that that meant much in Ankh-Morpork. He bent closer and looked at the initials for the first time. HV, RR, SR, and FD. None of those initials were significant in any way to Fred, so he decided to go back to his room. But first he had to take a look at that shed.  
  
~  
  
The City Council was meeting. Or rather, sitting in the same room and refraining from killing one another. Currently Rust and Vimes were arguing about something. Everyone else in the Council, including Vetinari, had learned to ignore these arguments.  
  
"Gentleman, please," Vetinari said, when he felt that it was at the point of becoming violent. Physically, that is. "I believe that any course of action involving Überwald at this time would be unwise." Vimes seemed relieved. Rust was enraged. "And now, do not let me detain you. Lord Rust, in my office, if you would be so kind."  
  
The rest of the nobles filed out of the room as The Patrician and Lord Rust trod the worn carpets to the Oblong Office. Once inside, Vetinari checked the door to be shut and turned to face Rust. "What is with you lately?"  
  
"You keep pissing me off, that's what it is!" Rust exclaimed. "We help to get you in office, Sybil and Downey and I, and you completely ignore everything I say."  
  
Vetinari mentally rolled his eyes. Having your best friend since the age of three as the absolute ruler did not mean you always got what you wanted. "Rust, I am merely doing what would be smart at the current time. Going head-on with Klatch even if we have no current issue with them and asking Lady Margolotta to help with her vampire armies, which she does not have, speaking of, would not be a politically wise move."  
  
Rust glared. "They'll get us one day. And then your girlfriend won't be willing to help because it won't be politically wise for her at the moment. They're just waiting for that, you know!"  
  
Vetinari was actually very concerned, really. He wasn't showing it, of course. But when one of your closest, not to mention only, friends starts acting paranoid you don't take it lightly. "Are you feeling alright?" he asked, not showing the half of him that wanted to tackle the man and scream 'What is your problem?' in his face.  
  
Rust did not move. After a time under Vetinari's gaze he merely shrugged.  
  
"Alright," said Vetinari, suddenly acting the role of ruler again. "Go home. I'm sure you've more important things to do there."  
  
Rust nearly screamed "Bloody hell, Havelock, you know what my wife and offspring are like! And you wonder why I'm so unhappy! My son hates me!" but he gave Vetinari a curt nod and strode out of the office. When he was gone Vetinari rang a small, silver bell and Drumknott clerky-walked his way into the room.  
  
"Yes, sir?" He asked. He was sulking lately. Someone had taped him to his bed the other night, and the Patrician had ignored his pleas for justice.  
  
"Could you please summon Lord Downey and Lady Sybil? Please extend my apologies for the inconvenience."  
  
~  
  
Ronald Rust stormed into the foyer of his house and slammed the door. It was empty, and dark. He stomped through the mansion and came out in the conservatory. It was blisteringly hot, the sun beating down on it all day and whatnot, so he cracked a window to get a small breeze of cool air. He slumped back into a chair and stared blankly into space. Behind him, his wife was approaching.  
  
"Ronnie, dear?" she asked, cautiously. Are you alright?" She peered in and saw his posture and facial features. She tried to sneak away as quickly as possible. However, Rust had been educated at the Guild of Assassins, even if he wasn't hirable Assassin, and he heard her.  
  
"Where's the boy?" he asked. The Rust family had six children, four of which were male, but she knew which boy he was talking about. The other three had left.  
  
"He went out," she said. Her name was Caro Rust nee Perlking. Her family had been moderately rich, which was why Rust had married her. At first, his parents hadn't approved, but they'd warmed up to her after a time. She had been beautiful once, but now she merely looked like a forty-one year old woman who'd been beautiful at the age of twenty.  
  
"Where, Caro?" he asked, sharply. She swallowed.  
  
"I don't know." There was a barely perceptible sound, but it was definitely a growl, what little of it you could hear. "He didn't even tell me he left. I'm sure he'll be back."  
  
"He damn well better be. He knows he ought to tell you if he's going somewhere," Rust's voice had taken on a flat, emotionless tone. Caro remained still and quiet. "What if you were taken ill?" There was silence for a time and Caro had almost left Ronald to himself when he looked into the next yard sharply. "What was that?" he asked.  
  
"I don't know," she said. She did, however, know. It was her son. And he was going to pay hell for being within ten feet of the damnable shed. "Probably a beggar or something, not to worry," she said, hoping he'd lose interest.  
  
"Caro," he growled. "I know who is near that shed and it is not a beggar. He has crossed the line this time. And this time, Havelock will not help me." He rose to leave and Caro stepped forward. "You will stay here until I return," Rust said firmly. "And when I return you will remain in the house for the rest of the evening. Do I make myself perfectly clear?" he asked. Caro nodded.  
  
"Yes." She watched her husband leave the conservatory in the direction of the shed. She hadn't seen his face the whole conversation, and she was terrified. Not only of what he might do to Frederick, but to her, and to everyone else in the house. She needed help, and she knew where to get it.  
  
So she turned and ran.  
  
~  
  
A/n: And I'll leave you there, shall I? Hehe. I fear none of you because any of you who read this, like it, and write, have done this same thing to me once. And some of you leave it hang forever. Not that I'm mentioning any names or anything. *hums innocently*  
  
You know, maybe I could just leave this for a month, and then have the whole thing written by the end of that month (this indeed is, I must say, the most entertaining thing to write that I've ever done.) and I'll post all of the chapters agonizingly slow. *thinks* Nah, I'm too nice for that. And I just can't wait to share things. See ya in a week, at most! 


	3. A Kidnapping and a Confrontation

Chapter Three  
  
By: Twist  
  
A/n: Here I am again. School is taking over my life, and I'm finally taking the violin again as another outlet of creativity. Writing just doesn't do the whole job, and I'm sorry to say it. *shrugs* And I'm also taking writing classes. And there's work. So, basically, things will be a lot fewer and further between. But I'll try.  
  
~  
  
Frederick Rust peered into the shed. Most of the things were so covered in dust that you couldn't even read the words on the sides of the crates. And there were many things covered in sheets. Pinned up on the wall were faded designs for something falling under the heading of 'rocket.' He tugged at the windowsill, just in the spirit of curiosity, and heard someone come running across the overgrown lawn. He turned.  
  
It was too late. And, anyway, his father would have gotten him eventually. There was a crack as his father's knuckles collided with the side of Fred's face and a thud as the boy hit the ground. Lord Rust, senior, stood there, hands clenching and unclenching, looking the picture of outrage.  
  
"I thought I gave you very clear instructions never to set foot with in a ten yard radius of this shed. And you try to break into it," he growled. "It even has the seal of the Patrician on it. And you try to break into it. Are. You. Stupid?!" Fred had never seen his father so angry, and that was really saying something. He was terrified.  
  
"I - I was - I - " he curled up to protect himself as his father's foot collided with his ribcage.  
  
"Get inside. And don't leave. And stay away from your mother." Lord Rust growled. Fred jumped up and practically ran home in his hurry to stay as far away from his father as possible. He could feel the glare on his back.  
  
~  
  
Caro ran as fast as she could up the stairs to the Patrician's Office. She knew where they would be, and that they would help her. Sadly, she encountered Drumknott and an amorous Wuffles en route.  
  
"Where would you be going, Lady Rust, that you should be in such a hurry?" Drumknott asked, as Wuffles licked at the clerk's knee. "The Patrician is busy at the moment."  
  
"I don't care what he's doing right now!" She yelled, kicking the clerk in the groin. "And I hate you!" Drumknott groaned and curled up in ball as she stormed off. Wuffles saw this as his opportunity and moved in.  
  
~  
  
"Sybil, there is something seriously wrong with Ronald, no matter how you look at it," Downey was saying. Sybil sighed and placed her chin in her hand, resting the other on her hip.  
  
"I'm not sure if interfering would be wise," she said. "It may be something that's going to settle on its own."  
  
"He's been like this for awhile now, though," Lord Vetinari said, staring at the ceiling in a manner which suggested thought. "But, like Sybil said, I'm not sure that if we step in it won't make it worse." The three of them nodded, and stared at some inner thoughts. Vetinari looked at the door quickly. "Someone's coming," he said. "They're running."  
  
Downey moved forward and opened the door. Caro Rust flew in, out of breath. She looked at the three of them, and burst into hysterical tears. Sybil immediately moved to her side. In the manner of all men everywhere during an emotional outburst, Vetinari and Downey stayed distanced.  
  
"What happened, Caro?" Sybil asked gently, when Caro had managed to compose herself enough to speak.  
  
"Ronald came home, he was angry about something," she said. Vetinari bit his lip and made an attempt at apologizing. "No, Havelock, it wasn't you, I'm sure. He's been angry at our Fred for weeks now and when Ronald caught him near that shed . . ." she looked at them all. "Can you do something?"  
  
Vetinari and Downey looked at each other. "I think," the Patrician said carefully, "that I have something along the lines of a plan."  
  
"So quickly? Caro asked. "I just told you about everything."  
  
"Yes, but I've been thinking about something like this for a long time," Vetinari said. "And it's a million to one chance; it's bound to work."  
  
~  
  
Fred Rust was cleaning a small cut on his face. His father had, presumably, returned shortly after Fred had retreated to the safety of the bathroom. He looked into the mirror. Many people said he looked like his mother, except for his eyes. He'd never really liked his appearance, and his eyes were his least favorite feature. They were the same watery blue of his father's.  
  
As he was looking into the mirror and thinking about how utterly miserable his life was, a black-gloved hand slapped over his mouth. The hooded figure behind him waved cheerfully in the mirror.  
  
"Hello, there," the Patrician's voice said from under the hood. "How are we today?"  
  
"Mmmmf," Fred replied. He was angry. He did not need his father's bizarre friends showing up in his bathroom right now.  
  
"Very good," the Lord Vetinari said, pulling his hood back. "You lead the way out." Fred felt a small, sharp point on his back. "And I really do urge you not to make any noise or attempt to run away. That would be bad."  
  
~  
  
There was a knock at the back door of the mansion. Enraged, Rust stormed to the back of the house. His wife had left, completely against his orders. A servant opened the door, and bowed into the foyer the president of the Assassins' Guild. Cowering behind the man was Rust's wife.  
  
"Caro! And Faustus!" Rust was in a rage, and he really wasn't sure who to shout at first.  
  
"Ron," Downey said levelly, eyeing his enraged friend. "Breathe. If you lay a finger on your wife, I swear to gods Havelock will jump onto you from the second floor and make the next few minutes of your life a living hell. And yes, he did bring the dog."  
  
This was untrue, of course. Lord Vetinari was currently in no condition to be descending upon poor, defenseless, abusive nobles as he was prodding the son of one out of the back door toward the house next door. His dog was also at home, growling at the world in general and trying to entice Drumknott specifically.  
  
"Faustus, you mind your own business. And you and Havelock will get out of my house now," Rust growled, unaware that Havelock and his own son were making at the back door of the mansion, looking under various bricks in the walk for the keys. "Get upstairs, Caro. I don't want to see you or Frederick for the rest of the evening." Caro nodded, gave Lord Downey a helpless look, and fled.  
  
"If you hurt her," Downey said as he opened the front door in order to leave, "I swear to gods all of us will find out and you will have hell to pay for it." He nodded curtly, stepped out into the hall, and left.  
  
"Dammit!" Rust slammed his fist into the wall, and stormed to the conservatory. As he entered the glass enclosure, the back door to the old mansion next door locked shut with a very final scrape. 


	4. Reasons Finally Revealed

Chapter Four  
  
~  
  
"Welcome," said the Patrician, "to my humble, erm, dust-covered piece of crap."  
  
It was not impressive, by any means. The inside of the Vetinari mansion had been left to rot for years, apparently, and dust covered the inside of the house in a thin sheet of gray. As the Patrician walked ahead, his boots left footprints in the layer. Frederick coughed.  
  
"I don't suppose you'll get this cleaned up one day, will you?" The Patrician nodded, and brushed the dust off of a small tale.  
  
"Yes, that would probably be a good thing. There are a few rooms upstairs that ought to be alright though. That's where you'll be staying for the next few days."  
  
"Staying?" Rust coughed, chocking on the stale air and dust together. "What do you mean? I can't go home?"  
  
"Oh, no," Vetinari said, seeming almost shocked that such a thought had even occurred to the boy. "It's all part of a greater plan. Sybil's upstairs; she'll explain the details to you."  
  
He followed the man upstairs in a near-trance. The observation that there were footprints from a lady's shoe on the stairs just managed to register in his numbed brain. He was being held ransom by the Patrician, the head of the Assassin's Guild, and the richest woman in the city. What on the Disc was wrong with that picture? They couldn't just go and hold him ransom! His father would have something to say about that, he was sure.  
  
"Havelock! Frederick! Do come in, though don't sit down. I believe the furniture is a tad on the antique side." Lady Sybil Vimes was standing at a doorway he'd followed Lord Vetinari to, and behind her stood Lord Downey.  
  
"What is going on?" Frederick managed to croak, while all the time his mind was telling him that there was no way this could be real. It just couldn't. "Why are you all here? Why am I here? Meh," he said, before sitting down on the floor and looking up at all of them in a way that reminded him of being four. Sybil gave him a pat on the shoulder.  
  
"Why don't you come into the bedroom and we'll try to explain things as gently as possible, all right?" She helped him to his feet and led him to a room where the furniture looked like it might just be capable of holding a person. He sat.  
  
"What has Havelock told you, first of all?" Downey had spoken up and was looking at him in a curious manner. "Also, I suppose I should ask what you've deduced on your own."  
  
"He told me I was going to stay here. Why did you kidnap me?" Rust was looking through an expression of sheer terror, confusion, and shock - badly stirred, or shaken if that be your preference. Well, mixed, anyway - and was doing a marvelous impression of a fish out of water.  
  
"Kidnap?" Vetinari asked. "Good gods boy, what do you think we are? No, we haven't kidnapped you, as I believe that requires you to be a bit further from your place of residence. We're just . . . holding you here temporarily until your father comes around."  
  
"Yes, we think that anger management bit has broken down and we must show him the error in his ways," Sybil said, while Vetinari and Downey gave each other an embarrassed look. "You'll be returned home in due time."  
  
"What? I don't get it."  
  
"Your dad's being an asshole, so were keeping you tucked away nice and safe until we can talk him back into his senses. Better?" Frederick had been unaware that Lord Downey was able to talk like that, and therefore was taken slightly aback.  
  
"Alright," Rust said. "So why are you guys so overly concerned with this? You're just friends."  
  
"That's where you're wrong, my dear boy," Sybil said, quietly. "We are much more than friends. We are, and your father came up with this, a Sacred Homiehood." There was a rather uncomfortable silence, where everyone except Sybil became very interested in their own and everyone else's shoes.  
  
"A what?" Rust couldn't picture any of them being in a sacred anything. Especially not the Patrician.  
  
"It's like a Brotherhood, sort of thing, except we had Sybil, so we couldn't really be a brotherhood. So your father picked the most embarrassing word in his vocabulary and slapped in on as a name of our little cult . . . thing," Vetinari explained. "There was a whole ritual that went along with it; swapping blood and drinking out of some holy cup and whatnot."  
  
"Oh," Frederick said. There was really nothing else to say.  
  
"We decided that in the current circumstances, and under the conditions of some agreements we made, that this whole thing qualifies as 'helping a member who desperately needs it' and that we are fully justified in what we are doing. Having a member as the ruler of the city doesn't hurt, either," Sybil said. Vetinari rolled his eyes and went on staring out of the window.  
  
"I'll report you to the papers," Frederick threatened feebly, trying to keep himself from shaking out of anger and fear.  
  
"Damn," Vetinari cursed, snapping his fingers. "And I rather liked the DeWorde boy, too. He'd have to be imprisoned if you let him know about this."  
  
Rust gave up. "You're playing dirty, you know," he said, as it became clear that this meeting was over and that Rust would soon be left to his own devices.  
  
"Don't look at it that way," Downey said, giving him a pat on the shoulder as he left the room. "Look at it . . . well, I can't really think of how to look at it from your side in a positive light, but I'm sure it'll all come out for the better.  
  
"Slick, Faustus. You really have a way with words," Vetinari said, and they went down the stairs, closing the door and locking it shut behind them. Frederick watched them both vanish among the rooftops in the way that Assassins tended to do, and - finding nothing better to do - went to sleep.  
  
~  
  
A/n: And the plot thickens! Well, not really. In fact, the plot is already thick enough for the whole story. Whatever. Anyway, the point of this note is:  
  
Yes, I have read 'Night Watch' and yes, I know Downey and Havvie and Rustie- boy and Sybil were all different ages and that there was some rivalry between Downey and my precious Dog-Botherer. So this now falls under the category of an AU fic. There. Happy?  
  
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Terry Pratchett, who Twist does not know. She does not know his lawyers or anyone else. She does not claim ownership of these characters or the names they have. She can't even claim the plot, which belongs to whoever wrote 'The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood.' She will find that lady's name out and have a proper Disclaimer one day. Just you wait. 


	5. An Enraged Rust and More People Learn

Chapter 5  
  
Twist  
  
~  
  
"So what about official allowances of the Homiehood and everything?" twelve- year-old Havelock asked, pouring milk onto his chocolate cereal.  
  
"How do you mean?" Downey was the only other one awake, and the two of them were enjoying an early breakfast of sugar products on the floor of the shed before Rust and Sybil emerged from hibernation.  
  
"What should we be allowed to do to help out other members?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know." Downey waved his hands and looked at a bird out of the window. "Maybe intervene when they're in trouble by any means we see fit."  
  
"Sounds good to me." There was a brief silence, broken by a very loud slurping noise.  
  
"What are you doing, Havelock?"  
  
"Making a hurricane." Vetinari looked at his confused companion's face. "That was the wind and this -" he dumped spoonfuls of now-chocolate milk onto the stricken rice puffs "- is the rain. And all of the people are drowned."  
  
"Gods save the Disc should you ever hold a position of power, Havelock."  
  
~  
  
When Frederick Rust awoke, the room was empty and the sunlight was slowly being sucked from the landscape. He stood up out of the chair, stretching as he did. A satisfying number of pops rippled up his back. Damn chair. He noticed the brief note, written in very feminine handwriting, on the chair opposite him. Why was he even here?  
  
Oh, right. He'd been kidnapped and was being held hostage by the three richest people in Ankh-Morpork. And he was in the Patrician's vacant mansion. Well, that was alright. Somehow, he found, it was very hard to be upset when you've had a good nap, are safe from physical harm, and are looking at note telling you that there is food in the icebox.  
  
So he made his way down the stairs and into the slightly-less-dust-ridden kitchen. There was and icebox there, and inside it offered milk, cheese, bologna, bread and celery. He wondered why there was celery. Perhaps Lord Vetinari was a vegetarian. Sybil certainly didn't eat celery and judging by the normal diet at the Assassins' Guild, celery wasn't a usual dish.  
  
So he made himself a sandwich, sat down, and ate.  
  
~  
  
Lord Rust was furious. He sat in the coach, fuming, and watched the evening life of the Street of Alchemists go by. Of course, the evening life in the Street of Alchemists was never the same, depending on the state of the Guild that the street had been named after.  
  
He was on his way to the palace. If Havelock wasn't involved in his son's disappearance, Caro had reasoned with him, than he most certainly would know where Frederick was. She had also reminded him not to throttle the man if he was involved in the whole scheme.  
  
He recalled the events of the day. Downey had left after Caro had assured him that she was fine, and Rust had stormed off to the conservatory. After fuming for several minutes, he decided that it was time to have Words with the boy, and had bellowed for him. Getting no response, he sent one of the servants for him. The butler had reported back that Frederick was not in the house and had not been seen leaving the property.  
  
He'd gotten very angry. That was really all he could remember, until Caro had been reasoning with him about not killing Havelock.  
  
The footman opened the door to the coach, and pulled the stairs out. Rust exited, trying to look collected, but knowing he merely looked like an enraged person trying to control himself. He half-stormed, half-ran up to the Oval Office, which Commander Vimes was just exiting.  
  
"Vimes!" he snapped, catching the Commander's attention. Vimes granted him a glance that said, to Rust, 'I'm gutter trash that fell into extreme wealth and fortune but still refuse to pay any attention to my superiors.' The fact that Rust was inferior in rank to Vimes was ignored. "I would like to report a kidnapping."  
  
"I must re-direct you to the people at the Yard, I'm afraid," Vimes said, lighting a cigar. "They will take care of complaints."  
  
"This is not a bloody complaint! My son has disappeared!"  
  
"The Patrician sets up national holidays, I'm afraid," Vimes replied without any emotion. He gave Rust a curt nod and left.  
  
Rust, enraged, stormed into the Oblong Office. It was empty. "HAVELOCK!" he bellowed, without any obvious thoughts to the consequences of using the Patrician's first name and, moreover, yelling it. Drumknott, who had been reaching for the doorknob, had serious second thoughts on the importance of the papers he was holding and fled.  
  
Rust tensed, expecting the man to materialize out of a shadow. But nothing came forward, leaving Rust both very angry and very confused. He looked around himself, but the office was empty. He went behind the desk, looked under it, was viciously attacked by a ball of white fluff, and fled. He heard the thump as the deranged dog ran headlong into the oak door. Drumknott gave the being before him a frightened look.  
  
"Where is Lord Vetinari?" Rust demanded.  
  
"I really don't know sir, though he did just have a meeting with Commander Vimes. Perhaps you could wait in the waiting room?" Rust glared at the secretary. He was damned if he was going to sit in a waiting room. Nobles didn't wait. "Or the Rats' Chamber would be acceptable, I'm sure." Rust gave the clerk a curt nod, and stormed off. Drumknott sagged and entered the empty office, where he was promptly molested by Wuffles.  
  
~  
  
"Daddy!" Sam Jr. slammed headlong into his father's thighs when Vimes entered the Ramkin mansion.  
  
"Hello," Vimes said, patting his offspring on the head. "Could you let go of my legs please?"  
  
"No," was the muffled reply.  
  
"Sam."  
  
"Daddy."  
  
"Let go of Daddy's legs now."  
  
"No."  
  
"Sybil! Help!"  
  
Lady Sybil swept around the corner into the foyer and stifled a grin as she saw why her husband had sounded so distressed. "It's because he loves you, you know," she told Vimes as she pried Sam off of him. The toddler waved at his parents.  
  
"I had a sandwich for lunch today, you know," he told his father. "The bananananas fell out and onto the floor." He grinned smugly. "I hid them."  
  
"And where did you hide your bananas?" Sybil asked sternly, putting the child on the floor.  
  
"Somewhere."  
  
"Well, you may not have supper until you bring your banana slices back down to us." The toddler grinned and nodded. "All of them," she added. Sam ran off, slightly less enthusiastic than he had been. "So how was your meeting with Havelock?" she asked, pecking her husband. Vimes tensed slightly, not being an openly affectionate sort of person.  
  
"Fine," he said, suddenly suspicious. "But Lord Rust reported that his son has been kidnapped and I just know I'm going to have to deal with the little bastard."  
  
"Oh, no you won't," Sybil replied, suddenly grinning. "Havelock knows exactly where Frederick Rust is."  
  
"Sybil, you're not suggesting that the Patrician kidnapped Lord Rust's son, are you?"  
  
"Well, no - not by himself."  
  
"Sybil?"  
  
"Come into the Nauseatingly Green room, Sam; this may take awhile."  
  
~  
  
"So . . ." a voice behind Lord Rust said, nearly making the enraged noble jump onto the chandelier. "I suppose your son's been kidnapped and you're complaining about Vimes' insolence?"  
  
Rust turned to see Lord Vetinari standing in completely open space behind him. He wasn't wearing the dust-black robe of office, rather a very dark green cloak. He was all but invisible in the shadow.  
  
"Stop pulling Assassins' tricks and tell me what the hell's going on, Havelock." Vetinari shrugged and seated himself next to Rust. There must be something about the way he was sitting, Rust decided, that made him look as though he could disappear any minute.  
  
"Where would you like me to start?" Vetinari asked, staring at the opposite wall.  
  
"I want to know what you've done with my son!"  
  
"Not what we've done with him, Ron. Why would be appropriate, I think." The Patrician fixed him with a cool blue stare. "He's perfectly safe from harm, if that's what you're wondering."  
  
Rust put his head in his hands and scrubbed his large, red face. "Why are you doing this to me? First Downey shows up at my front door with Caro, who I'd told to stay in the house, and then my son goes missing. What have I done?"  
  
"Well," Vetinari shifted and crossed his legs, "I suppose it all started with that . . . situation in Klatch. You seemed so upset about not getting your way, and you would have these little tantrums from time to time. Then you started hitting your son. Then Frederick killed a servant, which is not in his character at all." Vetinari gave Rust a nasty glare. "Caro is terrified of you, Ron. And it takes a hell of a lot to scare that woman, if you ask me."  
  
Rust found himself both very, very ashamed and very, very angry at the same time. He was ashamed because he'd just realized that he had been truly awful to work with since the Klatch incident, but he was extremely angry that people who had sworn to be his friends had gotten nosy about it and saw fit to take matters into their own hands. He returned Vetinari's glare, but found it was useless, as the Patrician had moved over to the window and was watching the city move on below.  
  
"You had no right to do this, you know," Rust said after a while.  
  
"But that's where it gets a bit tricky, doesn't it?"  
  
"What are you talking about, Havelock?" Vetinari sighed and turned to face Rust.  
  
"I want you to know that I have objected most strongly to such a harsh reason, but Sybil made me do it." Rust snorted. "I am the Patrician and can therefore do anything I really want to. Consider your son under house arrest." Vetinari caught the horrified look on Rust's face. "I'm sorry, but Sybil didn't think you'd listen if we told you it was to help you sort out your anger-management problems."  
  
"I can't believe the three of you." Rust had risen to his feet, his fists clenching and unclenching. "How dare you!"  
  
Vetinari merely gave him an impassive glance. Rust noticed - even through the bright, hot curtain of fury - that Vetinari was watching his every move under the calm façade. And he'd seen how quickly Vetinari could move. He realized, suddenly, that Havelock would not hesitate in putting someone - anyone - into a headlock if he felt he was in any serious personal danger.  
  
"These will not be the last words I have with you, Havelock," Rust snarled. He stormed out of the Chamber, slamming the doors behind him. Vetinari watched him go, and slipped soundlessly into a shadow.  
  
~  
  
"So let me see if I have this straight," Vimes muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "When you were all about seven - meaning you, Vetinari, Rust and Downey - you all formed a secret little society and vowed eternal friendship?"  
  
"Yes, dear."  
  
"And now Rust is having some severe problems and you have seen it fit to intervene by kidnapping his son?"  
  
"Yes, dear."  
  
"How does this work, Sybil?"  
  
"It's a Homiehood thing, Sam. You probably will never understand." Vimes opened his mouth to say something, but a screaming toddler voice reached their ears.  
  
"Look! All of the banananananas!" Sam Jr. rocketed through the closed door and into the room, displaying a handful of sticky, brown bananas.  
  
"What took so long?" Vimes asked, pulling out a greasy handkerchief and relieved his son of the fruit.  
  
"Willikins had to help me get some off of the ceiling."  
  
"Oh gods . . ."  
  
END, CHAPTER 5  
  
A/n: So . . . sorry it's been taking so long but school and such has taken over my life. I have had no time to write anything that requires much thought, but I got a few breaks and voila! Anyway, in case you were confused, the beginning was a flashback to their childhood. And that's that. Review, por favor. 


	6. The Book

Infinite Secrets of the Sacred Homiehood Chapter 6  
  
Disclaimer: I own practically nothing, excepting Frederick Rust. Everything belongs to the esteemed Terry Pratchett and the plot . . . well . . . it used to belong to the author/writers of 'Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood,' but I'm afraid the whole thing has gone wahooni-shaped and I'm really not sure anymore.  
  
~  
  
Frederick Rust was prowling around the mansion. It had been three days since he'd been escorted from his home to the decrepit mansion that Lord Vetinari owned. Someone would come round, once a day, and make sure he had all the supplies he required. It was usually Sybil, as she had the least to do. Fred had even had the chance to meet young Sam Vimes, and had felt a small kinship with the boy. Perhaps it was because he'd been isolated for four days.  
  
But despite the loneliness, he was rather enjoying himself. He'd noticed this after Vetinari had dropped in* the previous day. He'd realized that no one had shouted at him, spoken to him beyond a few words, and nothing more derogatory than a comment about the state of the bedroom from Lord Vetinari. All in all, Frederick decided, life wasn't bad.  
  
And so, when he heard the knock at the back door, he thought nothing of it. Sybil was using the back door because it would not do for her to be seen in front of an abandoned house knocking, and Vetinari and Downey had usually materialized out of a wall. He as really actually very surprised when he opened the door the see his mother's face poking out from behind a towering pile of laundry. "Mum?" he asked, stepping out of the doorway to admit her.  
  
"Oh, yes, Fred." Sybil entered behind Caro, grabbing young Sam by the back of the shirt and pulling him inside. "I'd assumed you'd need fresh clothing by now, so I brought over some of your wash from last week. I do hope you don't mind. We're trying to hide you from your father, you see."  
  
"I'd kind of figured," Fred replied.  
  
"Uncle Fred!" A small mass of flying toddler hit Frederick at about stomach height. Rust nearly collapsed backwards onto the carpet as all of his wind was knocked out of him.  
  
"Hello, Sam," he wheezed. Sybil tsked slightly and pulled her son off of 'Uncle Fred.' "So how are the negotiations going, then?" Sybil sighed, her shoulders sagging.  
  
"Your father never was the cooperative type, Fred." Caro nodded sympathetically and set the wash onto the small table in the hall. "Havelock spoke to him once, if you didn't already know that, and he hasn't even said anything to your mother in the past few days."  
  
"Banananana?" Sam asked, thrusting the fruit into Caro's face. There were small smiles all around.  
  
"No thank you, dear." There were several minutes of thoughtful silence as the three adults worked on figuring out how to get an uncooperative Rust to . . . cooperate. It was difficult.  
  
"Aha!" Sybil exclaimed finally, snapping out of her trance. "I have just the thing. Would you be a dear and watch Sam for a minute while I run back to the house?" Sybil bustled out, and Sam watched her curiously before continuing to use his banana as a crayon on the walls of the house.  
  
"So dear," Caro said, scolding the young Vimes and pulling him away from the wall, "have you been washing regularly? Keeping Havelock's house nice? Now, now, bananas don't go under the floorboards, Sam."  
  
"Mum . . ." Frederick sighed and leaned against the wall, running his fingers through his hair. "Could you not nag for a few minutes? This is the first time I've seen you in days and the first thing you ask me is if I've washed? Of course I've been washing!" The look on his mother's face made him think about the words he'd just said. "Sorry, Mum."  
  
"You get it from your father, you know." She set young Sam back on the floor, watching him and monitoring the toddler's proximity to the walls. "I hope you realize that."  
  
"I'm really sorry, Mum."  
  
"Fix it." There were several more minutes of silence until Sybil re-entered the house, her arms full of a book. The book had things hanging out of it, and gave off the general appearance that it was falling apart.  
  
"Here we are," she said, handing the wreck of pages to Fred. "This book contains all of our tidbits from when we were children. I'm sure this will help you understand a lot of what's going on right now." She saw the beautiful banana art her son had created on the wall. "Oh, Sam, what am I going to do with you?"  
  
"Wanna 'nuther bananananana," Young Sam pouted from his position on the floor.  
  
"Oh, come on, we ought to get you home . . ." She gave Fred and Caro an apologetic look. "I'm sorry; I think it'd be best if I took him home. It's time for his nap." She said a friendly goodbye over her son's howls of 'I don' wanna nap!' and left. Caro gave her son a hug and a kiss.  
  
"You've been forgiven for today, Fred." She smiled in a way that only mothers are able to. "Find some sense in that book though, will you?"  
  
"Yes'm." His mother gave him a peck on the cheek and left Fred alone with the book. He watched her walk across the back lawn and into the conservatory. He was alone again. Finding nothing better to do, he went into one of the many parlors and sat down, setting the gigantic book in his lap.  
  
It was - or rather, had been - bright green. On the front, in black wax crayon, in a hand that he recognized to be Lord Vetinari's pre-teen scrawl was:  
  
"The Infinite Secrets of this here the Sacred Homiehood".  
  
Rust couldn't help but grin. Perhaps the Patrician did have a sense of humor, after all. He most certainly did, Fred realized, after the way he had behaved during and directly following the kidnapping. With a slight grin, he opened the book, and a short list of rules fell out. The odd thing was, all but one was crossed out.  
  
~**  
  
"Right!" Faustus screamed above the amazingly loud argument Sybil and Ron were having. Havelock was burning ants with sparklers. "Can we all at lest agree that rule number one is that a Homie in need is helped by other Homies?" There was a chorused 'yes.' "Okay, now what were we arguing about?"  
  
"Equal rights for girls!"  
  
"Kids to be in charge of grownups!"  
  
"The rites of ants!" There was a brief silence. "I was only joking, geeze," Havelock muttered and continued torturing the small workers of the mounds surrounding the shed. Downey put his hands over his eyes.  
  
"So we have to argue over what we were arguing about? That's marvelous."  
  
"Rust and I were arguing over the current pressing events in Ankh-Morpork. That doesn't count as all of us." Ron nodded in agreement. Downey sighed.  
  
"No, everyone was arguing. I was moderating and Havelock's insane, so he doesn't count."  
  
"I resent that comment!" Havelock stood up out of the dirt and brushed the dust off of his front. "I think I have a solution to our issue."  
  
"A tissue?" Sybil giggled. Havelock glared.  
  
"No, actually, it isn't a clever rhyme or anything. While I was observing the ants it seemed like they were all doing the thing the thought to be right while at the same time following one simple order. Perhaps a leader is not what we really need, but simply one rule that's easy to follow." The only one not staring at Havelock was, well, Havelock. And the ants.  
  
"You will never cease to amaze me, I'm sure," Ron said. "How do you come up with something that ingenious by burning ants?"  
  
"He's Havelock," Sybil said simply. "So shall we think of one rule?"  
  
"It's so hard though!" Faustus almost wailed. "The more rules, the more organized things are!" The words 'future educator' flashed through the minds of the other Homies."  
  
"How about," Havelock said slowly, "The Homies shall do what the general consensus feels to be right?" There was another long pause as eleven-year- old minds grasped this concept of total freedom.  
  
"I like it."  
  
"S'brilliant!"  
  
"How about just one more rule? No burning, that sort of thing?"  
  
There was a general sigh. "No, Faustus." There was revered silence as Ron wrote down in barely legible handwriting the One Rule. Then, Sybil spoke slowly and clearly.  
  
"Shall the general consensus be going out and torturing Selachii?" There were several extremely evil grins around the group.  
  
"I'll get the fireworks."  
  
~  
  
*When dealing with Assassins, this must be taken in a very literal sense.  
  
**Cue the flashback to the childhood, ladies and gents. 


	7. A Crowd of Watchmen

Chapter 7  
  
Twist  
  
Format note: Footnotes have been placed at the ends of the sub-sections for ease in scrolling. Hats off to whoever thought of that first.  
  
Disclaimer: See previous 6 chapters.  
  
---  
  
Commander Vimes was patrolling the streets, deep in thought. So, the Patrician, Downey and his wife had kidnapped Lord Rust's son. That was not an everyday occurrence, even for Ankh-Morpork. Undoubtedly Lord Rust had already had a few words with Lord Vetinari and the matter had been as settled as it was going to get while Frederick Rust was still being held hostage. That wasn't what was bothering the Commander, however. What was really bothering him was the question "How long are they going to be able to keep this a secret?"  
  
--  
  
Corporal Nobbs was on desk duty. Things were relatively quiet in the Psuedopolis Yard at the moment, which was good. That meant there was a quiet place where Nobby could put his feet up and have a smoke. Sitting behind the desk next to Nobby, was Corporal Ping. Ping was working very industriously on writing a report, when an extremely angry noble stormed into the yard. Ping and Nobby both looked up, their Enraged Superior Alarms blaring at full scale. Lord Rust was standing in the doorway, his calm façade giving away immediately that everybody better do exactly what he said or it wasn't going to be pretty. Even the watchmen at the back of the room snapped to attention. Rust glanced at the two desks, wrote Nobby out of the scene, and swooped down onto the unfortunate Ping.  
  
"Listen to me, watchman. I want every watchman in this Yard on Scoone Avenue in thirty minutes."  
  
"Yessir." Had Ping shrunk any further into his chair, he would have fallen through the hole in the back and melded into the floor.  
  
"I mean every watchman. Even the grit - the dwarves and the trolls."  
  
"Yessir."  
  
"There will be consequences if there are members of this watch elsewhere."  
  
"Yessir," Ping squeaked. Rust nodded, glared at the assembled company, and left. Ping gave Nobby a terrified look. "What ought we to do? We can't have /every/ watchman on Scoone Avenue! Some are on patrol!"  
  
Corporal Nobbs had a very well-developed survival instinct. And what he saw in Rust's threat was certain death. "Send out Buggy* to find every watchman on patrol. Have them all on Scoone Avenue. Have him tell them if tell if they're not there in half an hour -" Corporal Nobbs paused. Being only a corporal, he did not have the rank to punish some of the officers out on patrol. He knew Sergeant Angua was out and Captain Carrot and . . .  
  
What about Mister Vimes?  
  
"- they'll have Lord Rust to answer to," he said finally. "And have Captain Carrot tell Mister Vimes."  
  
[*Corporal Buggy Swires is a gnome who patrols the streets of Ankh-Morpork on the back of a starling. When messages need to be delivered quickly and en masse, even the clacks was no match for Swires' rather . . . aggressive method of delivering messages. Being assaulted by a starling is certainly not fun.]  
  
--  
  
Commander Vimes was staring hard at a point somewhere above the Patrician's left ear. Captain Carrot was standing at attention next to him. In front of them, Vetinari was riffling through several police reports. "On the matter of the arrest of Harold 'Chuckie' Martin last week, Commander -" There was a knock at the door. Vetinari gave Vimes a quizzical look. The Duke shrugged. "Enter."  
  
"Captain Carrot needed in the hall, sir!" A voice yelled through the mahogany.  
  
"Swires," Carrot said. "If I may be excused . . .?" Vetinari gave a nod and Carrot exited into the hall.  
  
"There have been several charges brought against Sergeant Detritus in the manner he handled the arrest, Commander."  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Witnesses said that your Sergeant unnecessarily broke down the wall of the house, Commander. The whole Widdershins wall of the building, really," Vetinari said, looking at the iconographs.  
  
"I'm sure Detritus did what he felt necessary, sir."  
  
"Doubtless." The door to the Office cracked open and Carrot leaned in, his big faced creased in worry.  
  
"Er, there seems to be a bit or trouble sir. Lord Rust had demanded all officers on Scoone Avenue in thirty minutes, sir. Under penalty of consequences." Carrot glanced at the two men, both of whom looked, if not slightly annoyed then extremely angry. Or as angry as Vetinari ever got close to looking. Vimes turned to face the Patrician, very slowly.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
Vetinari flashed one of those lightening-fast smiles. "Do what you feel necessary, Commander. I'll meet you there."  
  
--  
  
Sybil Vimes stood behind the bay window in the front of the Ramkin mansion. There was quite an interesting spectacle outside. Almost every day watchman in the force was milling around in front of the Vimes mansion on the cobbles of Scoone Avenue. Corporal Nobbs was in the middle of it all, making a valiant attempt to restore some sort of order. Dorfl and Colon were at his side, Colon shouting things at people and Dorfl merely looking at all the watchman. Sybil knew watchman well enough to see that they were almost at the point of deciding that there was no immediate danger and that they would decide to keep it that way. A few were already pulling dogends out from behind their ears. The presence of her husband, however, was absent. That was slightly odd. She could only assume he'd be along in a few moments.  
  
"What's happening, mummy?" young Sam demanded, appearing at her side, banana in hand.  
  
"I don't know Sam," she replied, picking her son up and holding him so that he could better see the spectacle on the street. "But I think it would be a very good idea to be nice to Daddy tonight. I think he'll be in one of his moods." She pushed her son's nose. He giggled.  
  
"I won't put bananananas in your bed."  
  
"Sam?"  
  
"Ooops." Sam jumped out of his mother's arms and fled. Sybil watched her son go, decided that he had far too much of his father in him to be good, and turned her gaze back to the watchman on the street. Lord Rust was standing amid them now. Things were going to get interesting when Sam showed up.  
  
--  
  
Lord Downey was sitting at his desk, grading the written mid-terms of the upperclassmen when there came a rapping, tapping at his chamber window*. He turned from the organized stack of papers to see the Patrician hanging outside from the rope of a grappling hook. Downey motioned for him to open the window. A small circle of glass tinkled to the floor several seconds later. "I really wish you wouldn't do that, Havelock."  
  
"Old habits die hard." The Patrician unlocked the window, swung the panes open, and dropped into the office. "We might be in a little bit of trouble, Downey." Lord Downey raised an eyebrow. "Lord Rust has the watchman massing on Scoone Avenue."  
  
"What?" Lord Downey jumped to his feet, crossed the office and began pulling on his Assassin's garb. "Why didn't he call in Lord Venturi's infantry, if he's so angry? Why on the Disc did he sink to the level of watchmen?" Vetinari shrugged.  
  
"I have no clue. I think it's something to do with getting at Sybil and me, somehow. Massing our own forces against us, sort of thing." Downey let out an exasperated sigh. "I know, he has no common sense. But the Times is going to go crazy when it gets a hold on this story, and I'll never live that one down. Rulers aren't supposed to take hostages from their own City Council members." Lord Downey slid the final knife into its hidden holster and looked Vetinari up and down.  
  
"Are you wearing green, Havelock?"  
  
"It's better for camouflage," Vetinari snapped indignantly. "And for some reason I'm having trouble thinking that the thing we are worrying most about at the moment is what color I'm wearing." Downey agreed grudgingly and the two Assassins slipped out of the window.  
  
[*This is the Assassin's Guild, remember.]  
  
--  
  
Commander Vimes was very, very angry. All of his watchmen were standing around, taking orders from Lord Rust, of all people, when they ought to have been patrolling the city streets. Corporal Nobbs came forward, looking very, very nervous. "What is going on here, Corporal?"  
  
"Lord Rust, sir. He just stormed into Psuedopolis Yard, like, and said that if we didn't show up on Scoone Avenue in half an hour, like, we would suffer consequences." The little man licked his lips and cowered under the Commander's stony glance. "That's all right, isn't it? I we were doing it under penalty of wrath?" Vimes chewed his cigar stub dangerously, and glared at Lord Rust, who was standing in the middle of the crowd of watchmen, trying to make himself heard.  
  
"I think I'll just go and have a word with Lord Rust," Vimes growled, and advanced. "Afternoon, Lord Rust," he said, taking a drag on the cigar. "May I ask you why my force seems to be gathered on the street in front of my house?"  
  
"The Patrician, your wife and Lord Downey have taken my son hostage in that house!" Rust huffed, whirling to point at the dark, hunched frame of the Vetinari mansion. "I demand him returned!"  
  
"And how would that involve my watchmen?" Vimes was dangerously calm. The watchman closest to Rust and the Commander were backing away.  
  
"Hostage situations are your job, aren't they?" Vimes ground his cigar stub between his teeth. At the point where he was nearly ready to slaughter Lord Rust, two Assassins appeared on either side of him. Vimes felt the light pressure of a hand on his shoulder, a pressure that was quite clearly making it known that pressure could be increased quite easily, and perhaps a metallic pressure in the neck area could be arranged.  
  
"I do not think it is the watch's job in this sort of hostage situation," said the Patrician's smooth voice, from under the green hood behind Lord Rust. "Perhaps it would be best to take this inside."  
  
"Tell them to clear off," Downey's voice hissed into Vimes' ear. "They can go back to patrolling."  
  
"Clear off!" Vimes shouted at the assembled watchmen. "This didn't happen! If I find out any of you tell anyone - and I will - there will be consequences! Big ones!" The watchmen, while pretty sure that the show wasn't quite over, decided to air on the side of caution and left Scoone Avenue, wandering off to patrol or do whatever it was they had been doing before. "I think you'd better go back to Psuedopolis Yard, Carrot," Vimes said to the Captain. "Tell DeWorde to get lost if he comes by."  
  
"Yessir," Carrot said, saluting, though obviously puzzled as to how William DeWorde could get lost in Ankh-Morpork. Psuedopolis Yard was right on the Isle of the Gods. It was awfully hard to get lost there. But Carrot respected his Commander and marched off purposefully toward Psuedopolis Yard.  
  
---  
  
A/n: One or two more chapters ought to do it. What will happen next? Will Rust actually kill somebody? Do I know? Tune in next time, for the exciting next (final?) chapter of Infinite Secrets of the Sacred Homiehood! 


	8. Final Confrontation

Chapter 8  
  
Twist  
  
Format notes: /Italics/ is indicated in the demonstrated way. Word format doesn't stick, I'm afraid.  
  
Disclaimer: See previous chapters.  
  
---  
  
Frederick Rust closed the great green book, a small grin on his face. So perhaps the Patrician and Sybil and the head of the Assassin's Guild and - he had to admit it - his father had had rather eventful childhoods. And perhaps in his childhood Ronald Rust had been very nice. But there was no way he was a nice man. He was evil.  
  
Fred turned the page. Strange, there was hardly any writing after the year where his father would have turned fourteen. Occasionally there were small scribbles in different handwriting, as if the book had passed from one to another during their schooling years, but nothing of great importance. Except for an entry from about 30 years ago, in the more careful handwriting of the Patrician: /The Homiehood has collapsed. / Had there been a falling out before this? Perhaps at the Assassin's Guild? Fred knew that Sybil and Vetinari had always been close, and his father had always kept in contact with the rest of the Homies, and as far as he knew Downey had stayed in contact with Sybil. That left Vetinari and Downey.  
  
They were both rather control-freaks at one point, of course, and had probably been at odds a lot at school, but what could make the Homiehood collapse? His father was being a complete jerk at the moment, and they were still all sticking by him. Odd. Perhaps they just grew up.  
  
Fred jerked himself out of his thoughts as he became aware of a commotion outside. There were a lot of watchmen outside, and they were all talking about something. Probably nothing important, as the general mood seemed to be confusion. He watched his father show up outside and start shouting at people. He realized that his father was organizing them to break him out. He considered hiding, but Commander Vimes had just shown up, and that always promised to be amusing. Vimes and Rust began to talk and Vimes visually became very angry. Fred was about ready to admit that his father's demise was going to happen right in front of him and a crowd of watchmen at the hands of their Commander when there came a very loud pounding from the roof of the mansion.  
  
Two figures launched off of the sloping first-story roof and landed lightly on the grass in front of the house. Several watchmen took a notice of the arrivals, or at least one of them. The Assassin in green was ridiculously hard to see, even in broad daylight. Probably Vetinari. The Assassin Fred assumed was Downey strolled over and stood behind Vimes, placing a hand on the Watch Commander's shoulder. The green-clad Assassin, still nearly invisible, stood behind Fred's father and grabbed his shirt collar. Words were exchanged and the watchmen began to clear off at a shouted order from the Commander. Carrot and Vimes had a brief conversation and the remaining four began to progress toward the front door of the mansion. Fred gulped, seeing the expression on his father's face, and hid.  
  
--  
  
"You will all pay for this," Rust hissed loudly. Vimes rolled his eyes. Lord Rust was about to make another cutting remark when a slight, metallic pressure materialized in the small of his back.  
  
"I am really, really angry right now Ron. I would not push it." Vetinari sounded, even to Vimes, like he wanted very badly to kick something. Hard. Destroying it would be a nice bonus.  
  
"I can't believe you all have the nerve to treat me like this." Something inside Lord Downey snapped at that. Vimes, not thinking, grabbed the back of the Assassin's cloak. Rust had launched himself at Downey when the Assassin had lunged, but Vetinari had managed to suppress any immediate hostile emotions and had Rust in a headlock.  
  
"I can't believe you have the nerve to /say/ that, Rust!"  
  
"Why not, Downey? What have a done to you?! Have I kidnapped your youngest son and held him hostage?!"  
  
"I can't believe you're saying this! Asshole!"  
  
"Go to hell!" A knife appeared in Vetinari's hand as Rust strained forward. Vimes gave the Patrician a distressed look. Vetinari, apparently getting the message, kicked Rust in a way that made the angry lord's knees buckle. Rust fell forward onto the grass. Downey snarled and lunged, but Vetinari beat him to it and sat, rather relaxed, astride Lord Rust's back.  
  
"Breathe a little, Faustus." Downey growled slightly but backed off at the cool blue look Vetinari gave him. Sybil arrived with young Sam on her hip.  
  
"Now boys, what did your mothers teach you about fighting?"  
  
"Get off, Vetinari."  
  
"Do you promise not to make any ignorant remarks or try to kill anyone?"  
  
"Fine." The Patrician stood up off of Rust and sidestepped to allow the man room to sit up. Sam jumped off his mother's hip and rammed Vetinari. The Patrician wheezed and almost allowed himself to bend double.  
  
"Sybil," he managed to gasp, "do you think that possibly you could leave Sam with Wilikins for a small amount of time?"  
  
"Sam, go help Emma in the dragon house." Young Sam gave a happy squeal and sprinted in a zigzag across Scoone Avenue. Halfway across he fell, causing his father to groan and cover his eyes. He didn't know where the boy had gotten his coordination from, but certainly not his father. Maybe someone on Sybil's side. "Well, boys, I think we ought to go in the house and talk for a little while. Some things need sorted out."  
  
--  
  
Fred had thought he'd be safe in the scullery. He was wrong. Vetinari was listening to him hyperventilate on the way to the parlor. "You can't take me in there! He's angry! He'll kill me! He'll beat me to a pulp and there's nothing any of you will be able to do! I'm gonna die with multiple witnesses!" The Patrician didn't respond. He merely pushed open the door.  
  
His father rose as soon as the door opened, but his mother put a gentle hand on his shoulder and he sat down again, slowly. Vimes and Sybil were sitting between Downey and his father. The mood was generally one of tension. "Hello, dear," Caro said. Fred managed a quiet 'Hello, Mother" and was seated in the chair next to his father's. Vetinari leaned against the wall in a deceptively casual way. The silence could have been used as a demonstration of potential energy in a physics class. Sybil, who was apparently acting a moderator, posed the first question. "Do you understand why your son is in this position, Ron?"  
  
"No," Lord Rust growled. He crossed his arms and glared around the room.  
  
"We, as a group, felt your son was in danger," Vetinari said softly. "It was agreed that the best way to make you see how utterly immature you were being without taking it out on Fred was to hold him someplace where he would most certainly be safe."  
  
"I think you were being more immature than I was," Rust mumbled, glaring at Downey.  
  
"The behavior of all the members in our group cannot be accounted for," Vetinari said, waving a hand dismissively. "The point is this: you have been behaving in a way that has affected everyone close to you one way or another. You've started hitting your son, Ron." Vetinari sounded almost hurt, if that was possible.  
  
"It does a boy good to be hit. Puts him in his place." Both Vimes and Vetinari froze. The temperature in the room dropped noticeably. Sybil sighed.  
  
"Ron, why are you acting this way? We all know this isn't how you are. Well, maybe not Sam, but he's not supposed to be here." Vimes gave his wife a puzzled glance. "You can tell us."  
  
"It's all of you," Rust growled. "If it weren't for you all, I would be fine. You and your careers and lives and everything." Everyone present did the silent equivalent of a double-take. "I was best off out of all of you, except maybe Sybil. I had the parents and the money and the titles and the education. I should've risen higher than any of you. But Downey's the leader of the Assassin's Guild and Sybil's got her dragons and she's respected and Vetinari's the Patrician, for gods' sakes! It's not fair!" Downey snickered.  
  
"You sound like a whiny four-year-old." Rust glared. But something had gone out of it, like he'd had so much built up behind those words that just saying them helped. Fred shifted.  
  
"I have no job, my fortune's depleting and Frederick shows no intention of becoming great. So I figured if deprived him of everything, like Downey had no money and Sybil couldn't have her dragons for awhile, he'd learn the value of earning what he wanted. But he just meandered along and found different things to amuse himself. Books. He didn't have any interest in war." He glanced apologetically at Sybil. "I thought it would work. When it didn't, I figured I'd increase pressure on him by ignoring him. Like Vetinari. I didn't start hitting him until he was fifteen. It drove you." Rust glared at the Patrician.  
  
"It drove me out of the house," Vetinari snapped. "None of my relatives got diddly-squat. Except my aunt."  
  
"And look where you got!"  
  
"Hard to believe, Ron, but some people don't want to be the supreme ruler of a cesspit."  
  
Lord Rust rubbed his temples. "I'm sorry," he said with a sigh. The tension in the room evaporated.  
  
"Are you beginning to see how stupid you've been, Ron?" Sybil was trying to kick her husband discreetly. Vimes couldn't stop staring at everyone in the room. Downey drew his attention away from Sybil and Ronald and began to poke the Commander with a knife. He didn't move. Vetinari snorted.  
  
"I guess I have been rather unreasonable." He glanced up at his son. "I'm really very sorry." Fred froze. He didn't know how to take this. His father had just revealed that he'd been cruel to him all through his childhood just to make him successful. On one hand, it was a relief to know, but on the other he was bloody angry.  
  
"I'm going to need to think about this, dad." He paused. "But I'll probably forgive you one day." Vetinari glanced at his watch.  
  
"Well, this is all very touching. Are we resolved?" Everyone in the room stared at him.  
  
"Havelock, that isn't really like you at all. You usually have a little more finesse than that," Sybil said, slightly unbelieving.  
  
"No, don't take that the wrong way. I'm not in a hurry, but I'm wondering if we maybe ought to get the Commander out of here. I think he's gone into shock." Everyone glanced at the Commander. He was staring at everyone with a slightly glazed look in his eyes. Sybil poked him.  
  
"Sam, you're staring." He didn't move. "Sam."  
  
"Door. Son. Got to go." The Commander stood up, saluted on automatic, and walked stiffly out of the door. Sybil sighed.  
  
"I don't think he expected that."  
  
"He'll get over it," Caro said. She rubbed her husband's shoulders. "I think we ought to go home, Ron, Fred. The rest we can talk about without the help of your friends, I believe."  
  
"Sounds alright to me," Lord Rust said. He stood up, looked around, and finally shook Vetinari's black-gloved hand. "I think I can depend on you if I'm ever acting like an ass again." He shook Downey's hand as well. Downey gave him a pat on the back. Caro and Lord Rust left the room, talking in low voices. Fred gave a terrified glimpse around himself.*  
  
"Thanks for letting me use you house," he squeaked at the Patrician, and fled.  
  
--  
  
*It's hard to realize how scary an emotional confrontation is until after it has happened. After the emotions are all gone, blind terror sets in.  
  
--- 


	9. A Happy Ending

---  
  
Havelock Vetinari glanced around the backyard. Summer was drawing to a close, his third year at the Guild would be starting again soon, and locusts were being obnoxious in the trees. A bowl of chocolate ice cream lay unheeded in the grass by the shed.  
  
He fidgeted the tarp around on a line of things standing upright and carefully poured water on the dirt and brush surrounding it. Safety always pays.  
  
Three hours later, Sybil, Rust and Downey showed up. Sybil would be off to her first year at finishing school and Ron was disappearing to a military school somewhere in Psuedopolis. It would be the first winter the Homies were ever really separated.  
  
That wasn't bothering them, though. Right now, the blue fireworks exploding from the lawn below and into the sky were much more entertaining. The four of them sat on the roof of the Vetinari mansion and watched, occasionally taking a bite of pizza.  
  
"This winter's gonna suck, you know it?" Downey said at the end of the show. Vetinari was tossing water onto the smoldering cases and into the dog kennels. Indignant yelps rang through the night.  
  
"We can still write letters," Sybil said, taking a reflective bite of the cheese pizza.  
  
"I know, but who're we going to cause mayhem and chaos and disaster with?" Downey watched in disgust as Havelock took a bite of beef and pineapple pizza**. "Havelock and I can't very well do it alone."  
  
"We'll have to take a break until next summer, then," Ron said, stretching. "And there are the holidays."  
  
"True, true."  
  
"Besides, things don't catch fire as easily in the winter."  
  
"Havelock that is just the comment I would expect from you."  
  
--  
  
* I want no "eww-nasty"s in reviews. Some of us happen to like bizarre pizza.  
  
--  
  
In Lady Sybil's sitting room, over pizza, the four Homies were sitting and debating. Again.  
  
"I think some of us prefer vanilla ice cream," Downey was saying.  
  
"Peanut butter," Rust said, twiddling his thumbs and looking at the ceiling.  
  
"Vanilla."  
  
"Peanut butter."  
  
"Vanilla!"  
  
"Peanut butter!" Sybil and Havelock exchanged distressed looks. Lord Vetinari didn't eat ice cream and Lady Sybil didn't particularly care.  
  
"Ask Havelock!" The two arguing men glared at the Patrician, who thought very quickly on how to placate to situation.  
  
"I'm lactose-intolerant."  
  
"Oh, for the love of the gods . . ."  
  
"Boys," Sybil said, rapping a knife on the side of the empty pizza box.  
  
"How can you be lactose-intolerant, you're eating pizza with /cheese/ on! Not to mention that nasty pineapple and beef."  
  
"I resent that!"  
  
"Boys!" Sybil threw the spoon. It just happened, by complete chance, to hit Downey. "A half-gallon of ice-cream costs two dollars at the market. I will have the scullery boy fetch both." Wilikins glanced nervously around the room, nodded at Lady Sybil, and left. "Now, what was the real topic at hand for tonight?"  
  
"What to write in the book," Vetinari said, pulling another piece of pizza out of the box.  
  
"What was the last entry?" Downey asked, leaning back in the chair. "I ate entirely too much."  
  
"'The Homiehood has collapsed'."  
  
Rust winced. "That was after the first . . . incident." Vetinari nodded, as his moth was full of pizza. "Well, I think we should write that it has been officially re-formed."  
  
"Has it?" Downey asked.  
  
"I should day so," Sybil said. With a slight grin she added "Nothing like a good row to re-forge things."  
  
"Should I write that, then?" Vetinari asked, quill poised above the paper. The group gave a nod.  
  
Years later, Sam Vimes would open the faded green book. It would be four years after Sybil's - the last surviving member of the Homiehood* - death. And he would laugh on discovering the last entry in the book:  
  
/On general consensus, the Homiehood has been reformed. It will probably remain so, but who knows. Sybil wants a passage about everlasting friendship. Downey wants something about loyalty and Rust wants something about kindness. See what I have to put up with?/ -Vetinari, June 7 '03.  
  
--  
  
*Women always live longer than men. I could make a really sexist joke here, but I'm not going to. I respect the inferior sex.  
  
---  
  
A/n: And so it ends. Please review and give me feedback. I like feedback. 


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